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“You have,” said Broke. “I’ve seen you. Down on the Portsmouth Road. His blood was all over your dress, and he died in your arms.”

“Yes, but——”

“I’ll take back ‘cur,’ if it offends you: but I’m a stray, Eve. I’ve nothing to offer at all. I can only just live. A plumber makes twice the money that they pay me. The jobs I was trained for are bust or sold or given to—to ‘business men.’ If it wasn’t for Babel, I should be on the streets, and—— Oh, Eve, my lady, for God’s sake don’t cry. I didn’t mean....”

Instinctively he put out his arms, and the girl slipped into them.... He held her gently enough, comforting her, patting her shoulder, talking in steady tones of bygone days and gilding the future with a laughing tongue....

After a little, Eve had herself in hand.

As he released her—

“Let’s—sit—down,” she said jerkily.

They sat down together, and she slid an arm through his.

“Listen,” she whispered. “I can’t talk loud, because I shall cry if I do. Listen to me. I’ll tell you the name of one woman who’s put her arms round your neck. She’s done it for nearly a year—not very glaringly until to-night. Her name’s Eve.... Eve Malory Carew.” His fists clenched, Jeremy sat like a rock. The girl continued tremulously. “I’ve given you opening after opening. I’ve put the very words into your mouth. I’ve given myself away. I’ve asked and pleaded and begged. I’ve done what I’ve never done in all my life, what I never dreamed I should do—sunk pride, vanity, self-respect ... to—make—you—speak. ... I’m not good at ‘the arts,’ but I’ve used them all to-night. I gave you my profile, stared, tried to get my soul into my voice. I didn’t cry to make you take me in your arms—that was a piece of sheer luck. But I did everything else.... Well, there you are. I’ve failed. And now I want to know one thing. There’s only one answer you can give me, but from the way you give it I shall be able to tell if you’re speaking the truth. Do you love me, Jeremy?”